


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by alisonlynn



Category: The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, set immediately post fall of the sun throne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisonlynn/pseuds/alisonlynn
Summary: After the fall of the Sun Throne, Rune and Brand decide they can't trust anyone but each other, and leave New Atlantis behind.
Relationships: Brandon "Brand" Saint John & Rune Saint John
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this like six months ago, and it was supposed to be the start of an AU where Rune and Brand are street magicians in some human city, and the Tower finally tracks them down years later and sends Addam to investigate and them team up to find out who was behind the attack on Sun Estate, but no more words seem to be forthcoming, so here's what there is. Feel free to imagine their future for yourself :) Astrumiel and Lumieerie and I certainly enjoyed doing so. 
> 
> Also, I chose not to tag for rape/noncon, but we all know what happened right before this fic starts. It isn't discussed, but it's absolutely on Rune's mind, so please be careful if you may find that triggering.

They left the island under the cover of darkness. Brand used every trick he knew to cover their tracks, and Rune doubled back over them with magic, hand pressed tight to the still bleeding wound on his side. Their eyes met, the stars above and sea below making them into the only people in the world, and they knew behind them lay only ruin. Ahead, at least there was a chance. 

It began like this: 

Brand knocked very gently on the hospital room door, as if he didn’t want to be heard. Rune didn’t speak, but he sent a pulse through the still closed Companion bond. He couldn’t open it all the way. Not yet. Soon. Brand must have understood though, because he came in, looking very young in his borrowed orderly scrubs and sporting a bruise over one eye, just darkening. Assuming it came from the attack, the color told Rune he hadn’t been asleep as long as he’d feared. 

Brand’s face was a picture of misery, full of desperation, relief, and a guilt that broke Rune’s heart. He couldn’t think about it. “Rune,” Brand gasped, the air wheezing out of him like he’d been shot. “I’m so-”

“We have to go,” Rune said. He couldn’t hear that, not from _Brand_ , who had never apologized in his life and certainly didn’t need to now. “We have to get out of here.” 

Brand straightened, pulling resolve around his shoulders like a badly fitting cloak. “Where?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Just not here. There was a news broadcast - Brand - my dad is dead. Sun Court is - gone. When they come back for me, we’ll be on our own.” That they would come back, Rune had no doubt. What he’d done before they escaped - his attackers weren’t dead. They would come for him. 

Rune could tell by Brand’s expression that he’d known about Lord Sun. He didn’t argue, but his face paled further. “We could ask for sanctuary. Lady Moon, maybe?” They had seen his father’s colleague rarely, but her Companion had taught Brand how to fire a gun, back when his hands were still too small for a full sized handgun. 

Rune shook his head. “You don’t understand. The news said it was an unsanctioned raid, but it still must have been ordered by someone on the Arcana. We can’t trust _anyone_.” 

“Fuck!” Brand swore, so loudly Rune was afraid it might draw the attention of a nurse or orderly. After a tense moment, Brand continued, quieter. “What about Lord Tower? He and your dad are - were friends.” This, if nothing else, told Rune how scared Brand was. Lord Tower and his Companion had been fixtures on Sun Estate, and Mayan had trained Brand in both hand to hand and knife fighting. They did not get along. He wouldn’t suggest going to the two of them lightly. 

Rune considered. This was a tipping point, he knew. Two roads lay before him and only time would tell if whatever choice he made was right. If they could trust anyone, it would be Lord Tower, who had been partners in crime with his father long before he was born, long before even the fall of Old Atlantis. 

When Lord Tower had been a spy and torturer. 

“No,” he decided. “We can’t trust anyone but each other.” 

Brand reached out convulsively, as if to pull him into a hug, then stopped. Rune’s heart broke again, but he was grateful. He didn’t think he could bear to be touched. “Tell me what to do,” Brand said, his voice hard and determined. It eased Rune somewhat. He’d known he could count on Brand. 

“Find me some pants,” he said. “We’re going back to Sun Estate. I need my sigils and you need a weapon. Also,” he swallowed hard, “we’re going to need a boat.” 

~O~

They waited until sunset to climb out of Rune’s window and steal across the city, using back alleys and side streets as much as possible. No one recognised them, and the gates of Sun Estate were empty of news vans or gawkers when they reached them. 

“In and out,” Brand said in a murmur. “You go to our room, get your sigils and throw some clothes in a bag for us. I’ll start at the armory and then see if there’s anything usable in the kitchen.” 

Rune nodded. They’d been over this before and the tension was gnawing at his mind. The trek through the city had been stressful, full of near encounters and ducking back into alleys. He’d reopened his stab wound. 

There was a tiny flare of light when Rune touched the gates, but they opened for him. “A blood seal,” whispered Brand. “I wonder who set it.” 

“Whoever it was will know we were here,” Rune ground out, pain and fear making his voice tight. The last time he’d passed through these gates Brand had been carrying him, running from - “We should hurry.” 

The grounds were dark and bare. They felt dead, as if the very earth had felt the death of Lord Sun and wilted in response. It wasn’t anything like the last time he’d crept through these bushes, drunk and giggling to himself at his daring, not knowing what was about to happen - 

A woman appeared in front of them. She was pale and shivering, her clothes in tatters. When she turned around, Rune realized two things: she was the cook who used to slip him pastries in exchange for showing off his latest cantrip, and she was dead. Her face was mottled with bruises, and blood had dried in a long bib from a slash in her neck. 

“Rune?” she asked. “I thought you were out.” 

He didn’t speak, gripped by horror and grief. Brand tried to step in front of him but he shoved him back. If she attacked - 

She didn’t. Her face grew immeasurably sadder, her ghost able to convey a depth of emotion that no living features could hold. “Oh, you poor boy,” she said.

He didn’t know what she was seeing in him. Did she think he was a ghost as well? 

She shifted her attention to Brand, and blood tears dripped from her eyes, falling to the ground with a hiss. “You poor boys,” she said again. 

“We won’t be here long,” Rune said slowly. “Is it safe?” 

She shook her head sadly. “This place belongs to the dead now. But,” she added, consideringly, “I daresay you’re close enough.” 

A chill went through Rune, and Brand shouldered in front of him insistently, but she simply dissolved into a mist that seemed to burn the grass below where she’d stood. 

“Well that was creepy,” Brand said after a moment. It was an attempt to break the tension so Rune forced a smile. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone.” 

Rune shook his head. “We need to leave as soon as possible. It’s more efficient to split up.” 

Brand scoffed. “Let’s split up and look for clues,” he said in a mocking voice, “Oh no, Daphne’s been kidnapped and Shaggy and Scooby found the monster.” 

This time Rune’s smile was a little more real. Rivers, he appreciated Brand, trying to joke like everything was fine. 

The house had been ransacked. Wall hangings were slashed, curtains torn from their rods, furniture flung about with no care for weight or antiquity. The bodies had been removed, but blood stains or scorch marks showed where they had been. They paused for a moment in the entryway, taking in the damage to their home. Brand broke first. 

“If you aren’t back in five minutes I will drag you out over my shoulder,” he threatened, then winced. 

Rune forced another smile. “Back at you.” 

He didn’t let himself look in any of the rooms he passed, and he didn’t let himself slow down to take in any of the damage. He only stopped running when he had to go around some obstacle, like a thrown curio cabinet or gaping hole in the floor or, once, a downed wall. 

His room had barely been touched. There were signs of a fight in the hallway outside it - he recognized some of the knives sunk into the wallpaper as Brand’s. He pulled them out and cleaned them absently. Inside, the drawers were pulled out and beds overturned, evidence of a search, but no uncaring destruction. They’d known he wasn’t in here. 

His sigils were gone, and he cursed himself for a fool for not expecting that. Had they cleaned out the armory as well? Had he sent Brand away for no reason? His hands moved without his brain, and he found the duffels he and Brand had used on the ill fated camping trip his father had taken them on when they were twelve. Shoving shirts and jeans into them without checking who they belonged to, a thought struck him. He abandoned the bags and went to the hidden cupboard, disguised as part of the wall, where he’d hidden the things his mother had left him. 

They were undisturbed. The picture of her holding a blanket wrapped bundle, the framed portrait of her and his father at their Consort ceremony, the letter she had written him when she realized she was dying, and, best of all, two sigils on necklace cords. The spells in them were useless, the sort of things a silly child would store, but they felt like hope around his neck. 

“The armory was empty,” Brand said behind him. Rune startled, a knife in his hand before he’d even thought. “Oh, good,” Brand said, taking the knives from his unresisting fingers. “That’s something I guess. And there was still some food in the kitchen.” When he turned to show Rune the bag, Rune noticed a kitchen cleaver in his waistband. 

They changed in silence, putting on dark clothes and hiding the scrubs in the back of a drawer. The less trace there was of their passing, the better. Before they left, Brand stopped him with a warm hand on his shoulder. Rune nearly broke, so grateful was he that Brand’s touch didn’t repulse him. His attackers hadn’t taken this from him. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “I’ll protect you with my dying breath, you know I will, but what if I’m not enough?” It hurt Brand to say this, even with the bond damaged and shut tight, Rune could feel his pain. But he loved Rune just as much as Rune loved him, and he would not pretend with Rune’s safety. 

Rune didn't have the energy or the words for a speech. He could only manage the important bits. “Don’t you dare die. You are enough. We’ll protect each other, ok?” 

Brand swallowed convulsively, but he nodded. 

They encountered no more ghosts as they made their way to the beach, though Rune could sense things moving about nearby. The boat was simple, and it brought back memories of sunburned days, his father laughing and splashing them from his place by the tiller as they fumbled the sails, sand prickling between his toes and the water cold against his sun baked skin. They’d never taken it past the reef, but somehow the krakens didn’t feel like much of a threat. Surely they would smell the rot on him and know he would make a poor meal. 

By unspoken agreement they paused at the edge of the water to look back at the house, its spires like black claws against the light pollution from the city. They had been happy there, for all that no child understands happiness until it’s been lost. Lord Sun had raised them, and loved them, and they’d been sheltered beneath his power. It had been their home, and it was all the world they had ever known. 

The roof of the carriage house barely stuck up above the trees, but Rune’s eyes found it without meaning to. No, he thought. This place was better left for the dead. 

They pushed the boat into the water together. 


End file.
